


Sores

by Mirimea



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Image, Chub!Con, Ficlet, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Overweight, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimea/pseuds/Mirimea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shirts that Connor had brought with him to Uganda are supposed to be made of materials that can “breathe”, but at the end of the day even that doesn’t stop the sweat from running down his spine in embarrassing quantities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sores

**Author's Note:**

> A little ficlet for the chub!Con trope that is going around. It'll probably seem really weird if someone reads this a couple of years from now, but I like the idea. Initially posted on tumblr (@notlikelionking), uploading here for archiving purposes. :) (Please note that this focuses on Connor's self-disgust and it definitely doesn't reflect my personal views of "overweight"!)

The shirts that Connor had brought with him to Uganda are supposed to be made of materials that can “breathe”, but at the end of the day even that doesn’t stop the sweat from running down his spine in embarrassing quantities. He is quite certain that he is sporting wholly unattractive wet spots beneath his arms and on his back; it’s difficult to catch his breath and his face feels hot. And Connor is not even carrying any of the heavier boxes. 

He has lost weight since he had arrived in Uganda eight months ago, certainly, but he is under no illusion that he can in any way be considered thin, or even within the terribly narrow range of height-to-weight ratios that are clinically said to be ‘healthy’, whatever that means. And that’s fine, really, because Connor obviously has other qualities that make him good enough to be appointed district leader (which is an honor and a curse because sometimes it feels like all the extra responsibilities are slowly driving him crazy) and none of the Elders are particularly mean-spirited, anyway. No one is commenting, side-eyeing him or offering ‘helpful’ suggestions while he is eating, the way his parents used to do, nor is anyone oinking under their breaths when he participates in any kind of physical activity, which is what his classmates used to do all through high school.

It is just humiliating sometimes, like today, when they are all carrying supplies from the trucks and into the small medical practice in the village, and none of the other Elders even look especially flushed.

“I can take that if you want,” Elder Price offers when he emerges from the practice to fetch another box. “You look a bit tired.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Connor says, even as he hears how strained his voice is. He swallows the defensive comment that automatically comes to mind, because he knows that Elder Price is way too sincere a person to ever intentionally say anything mean about another person’s physique.

“Are you–” Elder Price begins, and Connor will never know what he had meant to say, because he feels his foot get caught in something that send him stumbling forward in a way that would probably send him flat on his face if Elder Price hadn’t been close enough to catch him, looking as surprised as Connor feels. “Whoa.”

Connor blinks, disoriented for just a moment before he pushes himself away from Elder Price’s arms. “Gosh, I’m sorry!” Despite himself, he immediately misses the feeling of Price’s warm hands on his shoulders. To distract himself from that thought, he bends down to collect the contents of the box that he had sent flying to the ground. “I’m not usually this clumsy.”

He’d like to be left alone to wallow in his embarrassment because he is probably not going to stop blushing anytime this century, but of course Elder Price is nice enough to lean down to help him gather the bags of gauze.

“That’s alright,” Elder Price says easily. “And you can take a break if you want to. We’ll take care of this.”

And again, it is probably not Price’s intention, but it hurts to not be included in the ‘we’. Elder Price, earnest and well-meaning. He is naturally handsome, and just self-absorbed enough to lead Connor to suspect that he has never even considered the fact that some people actually feel insecure or unhappy about their looks. Connor can definitely understand Elder Cunningham’s hero-worship of this young man, except Connor doesn’t want to _be_ Elder Price the way he suspects Cunningham wants. Connor simply _wants_ him, period. And that is maybe the worst thing of it all.

Because despite himself and even though he knows how the world usually works, Connor can’t help but _dream_. Even though he knows that he will never measure up to someone as handsome and nice as Elder Price, even though he knows that even if he _did_ get the chance, people would look at them and ask themselves why Kevin Price had settled for someone like _him_.

Through some ridiculous parody of a Disney movie, Connor reaches for the last bag at the same time as Elder Price does; their hands brush. Feeling his breath hitch, he snatches the bag away before Elder Price can grab it. “Thank you Elder, but I’m _fine_.”

The words sound even harsher than he had intended. Elder Price leans away from him, brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and hurt. “Okay,” he says, and in the silence that follows he glances around, as if looking for a way to escape Connor’s bad temper. “I guess I should get the last of the stuff…”

“You do that,” Connor replies awkwardly, sharp guilt already beginning to pain him. None of this is really Elder Price’s fault, after all. It is Connor’s fault, for perhaps taking slightly bigger portions than recommended, for always feeling too awkward in his own skin to go for a run. His slow metabolism is at fault as well, of course, at least according to his physician.

Elder Price gives him one last, confused look before heading towards the trucks. Connor watches him go, tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, and bends down again to pick up the box.

 (Connor doesn’t know that in three weeks’ time, Elder Price will kiss him, catching Connor off guard while standing over the laundry basin and trying to scrub his shirts clean. He doesn’t know that his own insecurities will nearly ruin their budding relationship before it has the chance to start. He doesn’t know that in two months’ time, he will lose his virginity to Elder Price’s awkward but tender administrations, and he certainly doesn’t know that things will turns out _fine_. Those are simply things that will happen, in due time.)


End file.
